


Hale to the King

by spaceprincessem



Series: i've always liked to play with fire [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Void Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29935647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceprincessem/pseuds/spaceprincessem
Summary: “Is there any reason why my name’s on the King?” He finally asked.When he met the Sheriff’s gaze he was reminded of that feeling of flying too close to the sun. He could feel the heat of the flames licking his skin, his blood beginning to bubble and boil as he slowly, painfully, turned to ash. He watched the older man’s eyes scrunch ever so slightly, as if they were sayinghow could you not know?And Derek wanted to run. He wanted to run as fast as he fucking could because he just couldn’t handle this. Not right now. Not when his exhaustion ran bone deep and the nightmare never seemed to end. But he couldn’t ignore that itch beneath his skin, eyes blazing eclectic blue, as those two words - those two fucking words - replayed themselves over and over again in his mind.Save Stiles.A rewrite of "The Fox and the Wolf" and the beginning of "De-Void"
Relationships: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: i've always liked to play with fire [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024093
Comments: 4
Kudos: 78





	Hale to the King

**Author's Note:**

> Well, well, well look who finally decided to update their Void Stiles series. Me. I apologize for the wait, I kind of fell down the Void rabbit hole and got inspiration to write the next fic in this series. I think I tend to struggle with the rewrites of the scenes so it makes my writing process a little slower.
> 
> Anyway, I allude to the scene with Void Derek and Chris. I wanted to do a little something different and have Stiles kind of be struggling in terms of seeing what Void is doing to other people. Also, badbrains wrote this beautiful little ficlet of that scene that you should totally go read because that's basically how I imagine this scene would go.
> 
> it's called [smoke signals](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29639100) and it's freakin amazing so go read it or else!

If there was one thing Derek knew he was good at, it was letting people down. It was just one hit after another, a lesson that the world never got tired of teaching him. It was a tiny, flickering flame that, at one time, made him feel alive. It burned through his veins, the heat licking at his skin, making him rise like a fucking phoenix reborn in the ashes. He was its master. Its conqueror. He was the king of the entire goddamn world. But he flew too close to the sun, and when he woke from ashes, the smoke, the burnt remains of his hollow home he realized just how much he never really mattered. And every time he tried to get up, crawling on his hands and knees, he was beaten back into the ground. If he’d been smart he would have left before it got worse. If he’d been selfless he would have left before anyone else got caught in his wildfire. But Derek was fucking selfish, wanting things he knew he could never really have. He would pay the price over and over again, dragging down those whom he had sworn he would die for. Instead, they were just dying. 

_ Or dead. _

Derek growled through his teeth, a low and primal sound that reverberated through his chest as the crackling sound of the camera focusing made his hair stand on end. Here was the reminder. Here was the proof that Derek Hale would always -  _ always _ \- lose. They watched as Stiles slowly raised his arm, waving his fingers as his dark eyes stared directly in the camera. Derek felt like Stiles was looking right at him, like he knew who was watching from the other side. The last time he had seen that smirk was two days ago in the basement of Echo House. When he let that  _ thing _ walk right on out. Facing Scott, facing the Sheriff, facing the  _ pack _ was like looking into a goddamn mirror. They all carried the same guilt ridden look. The one that made the circles beneath their eyes darken like shadows, lips twisted painfully tight, lines etched with grief and exhaustion. They were all letting Stiles down again and again. 

Soon there wouldn’t be anything left to save.

When they reached the Sheriff’s house Derek knew Void was going to be long gone. It was all part of the game. An intricate design of cat and mouse. He eyed the Sheriff and the Argents wearily. They had all viewed themselves as predators, top of the food chain, where they could lead the hunt. They never knew what it was like to be the prey. But Derek knew. It was the feeling of fear wrapping around your throat, squeezing your lungs, until you couldn’t breathe. Until you realized it was easier to just give up the fight. Now they were all strung at the bottom together, stumbling in the dark, with no way out. 

Derek closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the faded, but lingering scents of warm cinnamon and sweet vanilla. Despite it all they were still there. Beneath the ash and the decay and the  _ death _ they were still there. Stiles was still there.

“What is all of this about?” Chris asked as he gestured to the chessboard sitting at Stiles’ desk. “What are the sticky notes for?” 

They moved towards the desk and Derek’s eyes swept over the board. He could feel something stirring in his chest, breath hitching in his throat as he spotted his name on the king. Another trick. Another jab to hit Derek where it hurt most.

“This is what Stiles used to try to explain to me about all of you.” The Sheriff supplied as he watched Chris carefully pick up one of the black pawns labeled  _ Isaac  _ that had been left on the side of the board.

“Maybe it’s a message from Stiles.” Allison said as she looked between the men, “The real Stiles.”

“Or maybe it’s a threat.” Chris argued as he set the piece back down.

Derek couldn’t stop staring at the scribbled, black letters that made up his name. Maybe if looked long enough, hard enough, he could derive some sort of meaning. It wasn’t random or haphazardly placed. The king could have been anyone - _ anyone _ \- and yet, there he was. Scott would have made more sense or maybe even Lydia as the queen. Derek wasn’t important. He was nothing,  _ nothing _ , except the boy who only knew how to lose. 

“Is there any reason why my name’s on the King?” He finally asked.

When he met the Sheriff’s gaze he was reminded of that feeling of flying too close to the sun. He could feel the heat of the flames licking his skin, his blood beginning to bubble and boil as he slowly, painfully, turned to ash. He watched the older man’s eyes scrunch ever so slightly, as if they were saying  _ how could you not know _ ? And Derek wanted to run. He wanted to run as fast as he fucking could because he just couldn’t handle this. Not right now. Not when his exhaustion ran bone deep and the nightmare never seemed to end. But he couldn’t ignore that itch beneath his skin, eyes blazing eclectic blue, as those two words -  _ those two fucking words _ \- replayed themselves over and over again in his mind.

_ Save Stiles _ .

“ You’re heavily guarded.”  The Sheriff said with a small nod of his head, like some understanding had been passed between them.  “Though, I guess, the alarming detail is that you’re one move from being in checkmate.”

“The loft.” Allison added. “He’s at the loft.”

Derek took another long, deep breath, and beneath the lingering scents of  _ Stiles _ and the overwhelming stench of  _ Void _ he could smell it. It was eerily familiar to the taste he had found on top of the hospital roof. There had been a struggle, a  _ fight _ , of Stiles against himself -  _ against Void _ \- a tiny, little moment barely long enough to leave a clue. He threw his eyes towards the window, the setting sun making his stomach twist uncomfortably. 

“And he wants us to come there.” Chris grunted as he rubbed a hand over his face, his calculating gaze still hovering over the board.

“Night’s falling.” Derek reminded them.

“This is a trap.” Chris stated matter-of-factly as he faced the others. “It’s clear that this thing sees Derek as a threat and it wants to take him out.”

“I don’t care.” Derek argued, arms crossing over his chest, “Either we find Stiles first or the Oni will.”

Derek could read the look on Chris’ face. The look that said  _ would that really be such a bad thing?  _ He fought back the primal growl clawing its way up his throat. This wasn’t the time to fight amongst themselves. Derek had already decided if it came down to saving Stiles or saving Beacon Hills he wouldn’t hesitate to let the latter burn to the ground. Maybe Chris could see it in his eyes or the lines of his face.

_ You’d really let your ancestral land, the land your family swore to protect, go up in flames for a boy? _

Chris didn’t have to ask, but Derek knew that’s what the older man was thinking as his eyes hardened, the question blazing in the sea of light blue. 

_ Yes _ .

“Fine,” Chris relented looking away from Derek, “but we’re not going in without a plan, or a little bit of insurance.”

“I have a plan.” The Sheriff said, breaking the tension in the room.   


“The sun is setting, Sheriff,” Chris said as he nodded his head towards the window, “what did you have in mind?”

* * *

And it was like  déjà vu as Derek pulled the loft doors open. The last rays of the setting sun were slanting through the windows, illuminating the silhouette of a boy who was there, but not  _ here _ . He hated how the air sweetened with those notes of vanilla and warm cinnamon, the breath of fresh pine that almost made Derek believe he had just stepped outside. He hated it because underneath it all he could taste the bitterness, that little bit of  _ wrong _ that told him exactly who was standing in front of them. He had to pretend, though, because it was their turn and moving across the chessboard had never been deadlier. He followed the Sheriff down the stairs, a step behind the older man.

“Dad?”

Derek wanted to scream because that thing knew Stiles so well. Personally and intimately. It was painful to watch, to know, Void was giving them false hope. That somehow Stiles had a say,  _ a chance _ , of being in control. Derek blinked, the overwhelming sour smell of everything Void was consuming the stale air in the loft. It was smirking now, breaking the handcuffs with that inhuman strength Stiles had never possessed.

“You’re not my son.” The Sheriff said, the smallest note of pain and heartbreak in his voice.

Void tilted its head to the side, “Aren’t we?” The Sheriff fell back in step with Derek and now Void’s steely gaze was on the wolf, “But you already knew who we were, didn’t you Derek?”

Derek swallowed the hard lump that had been forming in his throat. “Smelled wrong.”

Déjà vu, right?

“Good.” Void looked delighted by that, a grin spreading across its face. “We’re still impressed and we love playing this game. We love watching Derek Hale lose.”

Derek could see the Sheriff’s eyes dart over to him for a moment, but Derek kept his gaze forward, never leaving Void’s face. He wanted to memorize the way the lips coiled in the corners wickedly. How the honey-whiskey almost melted into black in the light. How still it stood as it waited patiently. How it differed in every way from the boy it was holding prisoner. He wanted to know exactly who Void was so that when it was just  _ Stiles _ Derek could look at him and never,  _ ever _ , see the monster. It wouldn’t have mattered if it had worn Stiles’ face or used his voice.

Derek would just see Stiles. His Stiles.

“Should we tell Chris and Allison it’s okay for them to join now?” Void asked when the silence went on for a beat too long. “Or are they secretly dowsing this place in gasoline, letting a match do all of the work?”

Derek wished the dig didn’t hurt and had to force himself to not turn around as he heard the two Argents coming in behind them. If there was one thing that made his skin absolutely crawl it was having his back open and vulnerable to an Argent.

“What a ragtag group you are.” Void said in amusement as he looked over them. “The desperate father, the even more desperate werewolf, and the last two surviving members of the family who tipped the balancing scale of Beacon Hills.”

“You talk a big game for someone who’s been buried beneath an old tree for several years.” Chris said calmly.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Void said, “besides, I kind of like this new look.” It said with a wink towards Derek as it ran its hand over its body. “Who knew one, little human could cause all this pain.”

“Where’s my son?” The Sheriff asked, lips pressed together in a thin line. Derek realized this was really the first time the man had faced the monster when it wasn’t pretending to be his son.

“You said it yourself,  _ dad _ ,” it chided mockingly, “we’re not your son, but really we haven’t been your son for a long time.” 

“What do you mean?” The Sheriff asked with narrowed eyes.

“You think we can forget how you wasted away behind a bottle after our mother died?” Void asked accusingly. “You think we can forget how you left us to watch her die all alone?”

Derek felt frozen and he knew the others did too as all of their attention shifted to the Sheriff, who was visibly wearing the pain and guilt he had been carrying for years clearly on his face. This is what Void did. It drove wedged between people, tearing down everyone that ever meant someone to Stiles, so that, even if they did win, Stiles would be left to pick up the shattered pieces. 

“We killed Claudia Stilinski.” It said harshly. “She knew it. You know it. And so do we.”

“Don’t listen to it.” Allison cut in, almost standing protectively in front of the Sheriff. “This is what it wants.”

Void licked it’s lip, it’s head tilting sharply again. “We’re not the only one with family secrets.” Its dark eyes moved between Derek and the Sheriff hungrily. “No one even knows how Gerard kidnapped us, beat us, and told us we were nothing more than a message for Scott McCall. Perks of being the human sidekick.”

“Gerard did what?” The Sheriff snarled as he looked at Chris.

“We didn’t know.” Chris immediately said, his hands in the air to keep them from grabbing the gun resting against his hip.

Derek wanted to call him a liar and rip the man’s throat with his teeth because that’s how the story always goes. Always an Argent with bloodied hands that no one saw because they were the good guys. They only hunt the monsters. How could they ever be one? The only thing keeping him rooted to the spot was the steady beat of Chris’ heart and the look of absolute devastation on Allison’s face. Another blow. Stiles was her friend. Scott had been someone she loved. And the Hales had just been innocently sleeping in their beds. And every one of her dead family members had a hand at hurting people who had never deserved it. 

“Strike a nerve?” Void asked as it watched to see who would attack first. 

“You’re lying.” Allison accused, but her voice was wavering.

Void arched an eyebrow. “Really, Allison? I guess we’re lying about how we found Boyd and Erica in that basement too.”

“What?” Derek’s head snapped from Chris and Allison to Void, his eyes flashing electric blue.

“And who put them there?” Void asked, feigning innocence until his lips parted into a malicious grin, his head nodding in Allison direction, “Three guesses who.”

“Enough.” The Sheriff growled as he threw his arms between Allison and Derek as if he could feel the tension rolling off of both of them, gearing up for a fight they couldn’t afford.

“I suppose you want me to come quietly.” Void pouted like the Sheriff had ruined all of its fun.

“Don’t worry,” Allison said as she aimed the taser in Void’s direction, “we didn’t expect you too.”

It happened so quickly, Void’s hand snatching the electric wire out of the air, taking the charge like it was nothing. Derek could see Allison’s eyes widening and he moved while it was distracted. Void threw the taser away before swiftly turning, his arm jabbing under Derek’s armpit, popping his shoulder out of place. Derek grunted as he felt the pain, but barely had time to think as Void slammed his head into the table.

“I expected better from you.” Void whispered in his ear, teeth scraping against his skin.

Derek tried to ignore the shiver trailing down his spine before Void was throwing him into the wall like he was worthless. The sting of healing faded into a dull thump as the sound of a gun clicking into place made his blood run cold. Void turned, eyes alight with interest as he stared down the barrel of Chris’ gun. The gun Derek knew carried the lethal blow. Derek slowly got to his feet as he inched closer to Stiles, ready to take the bullet without hesitation.

“Argent listen to me,” the Sheriff pleaded, a shaking hand raising in the space between the two older men, “don’t do this.”

“Why not?” Chris asked, not taking his eyes off of Void. “I’ve done it before. I can easily add a Nogitsune to the list.”

“The balancing scale.” Void whispered.

Derek held his breath as the Sheriff aimed his gun right at Chris, the click shattering the tense silence. He could see the delighted surprise on Void’s face. Derek wondered if it was letting Stiles see, if it was letting him helpless watch his father beg to spare his son’s life. 

“You’re not going to shoot my son.” The Sheriff threatened through gritted teeth.

“You said it yourself,” Chris stated calmly, his grip on the gun firm, stance steady, “that’s not your son.”

“Put it down.” The Sheriff yelled, and Derek couldn’t really blame the man. He’d lost his wife and Stiles was all he had. He couldn’t lose him. Not this way. “Put it down!”

The change was so subtle, the tilt of a head, eyes glossing over with tears, a sharp inhale of breath. Stiles -  _ Void _ \- swallowed hard, his voice soft and pleading as he looked at the gun in fear.

“Dad,” it was all the right things, “he’s going to shoot me. He’s going to kill me.”

And Derek watched as the Sheriff gave his son that wide eye stare, the look that told who he thought was still his son that he wouldn’t let that happen. Derek had never hated Void more.

“Don’t listen to it.” Chris growled.

“Put the gun down!” The Sheriff yelled over the older man.

Void took a step closer, his forehead almost pressed against the barrel, and it was like a fucking switched had been flipped, “Pull the trigger. Come on.”

That’s all Void needed. The slight waver, the moment of hesitation as Chris lowered the gun ever so slightly, his eyes filling with something rarely ever worn on the Argnet’s face. Shock and fear. The Sheriff was still yelling, but the terrifying echo of Void screaming  _ shoot me _ was going to haunt Derek the rest of his life. 

“Chaos.” Derek heard Allison murmur and for a moment their eyes met, an understanding passing between them.

“This is what it wants.” Derek’s voice was hard, clear, and final as it addressed the older men still locked in their stalemate. “This is exactly what it wants.”

“Well,” Void said with a slight roll of its eyes as its smile moved between Allison and Derek, “not exactly. I was kind of hoping Scott would be here too.” A shadow suddenly fell over the room as Void turned to face the window, “But I’m glad you all have your guns out. You’re not here to kill me,” it’s gaze darted to Chris for a moment, “you’re here to protect me.”

Void’s eyes lingered on Derek a moment too long as it slid between Chris and the Sheriff. He barely had time to think as the Oni materialized in the room. He moved, meeting Allison on the other side, putting Stiles in the middle. And when he found himself left on the ground as the sound of guns, werewolf snarls, and the swing of a sword filled the air he felt the heat of breath against his neck.

“One move from being in checkmate,” Void purred, “come and find me.”

And maybe Derek had been wrong. Letting people down wasn’t the only thing he was good at, because it was becoming quite clear that losing Stiles was the only game he could ever win.

* * *

He was on his hands and knees, blood dripping from his slightly parted lips. He raised a shaking hand to the wound carved in his skin before collapsing against the pavement. The sun felt too bright, too hot. He squeezed his eyes closed, inhaling sharply. The air hurt his lungs, like he wasn’t used to the feeling of breathing, like his body was rejecting him as its owner. He wanted to cry, to feel something besides the darkness that was building like pressure behind his eyes, but he was empty. He knew Void was still there, lingering in the shadows. It was watching.  _ Waiting _ . Because it had planned this. It knew. Chess may have been Stiles’ game, but Void was the one moving all of the pieces. This was all part of its game. It  _ wanted _ Stiles to see what was coming next. 

Stiles screamed, slamming his fist into the concrete. For the first time in  _ weeks _ his head was quiet and that almost made him feel crazy. The silence was somehow worse because it was all a fucking lie. He wasn’t  _ him _ . He was being propped up by broken, splintered pieces, offered as a personal sacrifice to the chaos because there was nothing Void liked more than consuming every single last bit of  _ fight  _ and  _ hope _ left in his very soul. He wished Void would just leave him here to rot. But dying was always the easy part. Those who survived were the ones who suffered the most. And Stiles knew,  _ he knew _ , Void would drag him around watching everyone take the easy way out until he was the only one standing to suffer the consequence of being left behind.

So when he heard the familiar rev of an engine, the sleek, back shine of the only Camaro in Beacon Hills pull around the corner did he finally feel the wet trail of tears streak down his cheeks.

“Stiles? Stiles!”

“No,” Stiles cried into the pavement, “not him, please, not Derek.”

“Hey,” Derek was careful, gentle as he gripped Stiles shoulders, turning him over so his grey-green eyes could search the boy’s face, “hey, look at me.”

Stiles shook his head, “I  _ can’t _ .”

“ _ Stiles _ .” It was more of a growl, a word said between teeth and Stiles could perfectly imagine the flash of electric blue. “Look at me, please.”

The last time he had seen Derek was in the dark depths of Echo House, tied to a chair and used against Stiles to let the monster in. Derek who had come to save him. Derek who was the most important piece on the board. 

“This is what it wants,” Stiles said as he finally opened his eyes, “you have to get away from me.”

“I let you go once,” Derek argued as he scooped Stiles into his arms, “and I’m not making that mistake again.”

Stiles wanted to protest, wanted to fight, but Derek felt so  _ real _ and he was just so, so, so  _ tired _ . He didn’t know how much time had passed since Echo House. Void never let him see. He was just kept in the dark, with only the whispers to keep him company. The never ending onslaught of the terrible things he and Void would do together. The vivid details of how he would destroy everything he loved. The replays and rewinds of his worst memories and moments laid out before his eyes. That’s why this breath of freedom was so fucking terrifying. Because what could be worse than the hell Void was already putting him through?

“It’s still here.” Stiles said as a sob lodged itself in his chest.

“I know, Stiles.” Derek replied gently as he fastened Stiles’ seat belt, which almost made Stiles laugh because it seemed absolutely ridiculous given the circumstances. “We’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t think we will.” Stiles whispered as he laid his head against the seat, his hand coming up to cover his still bleeding wound. “Derek, I don’t know where I’ve been. I don’t even know what day it is.” He could see Derek’s lips tighten, arms flexing as he gripped the steering wheel tightly. “You know, you’ve seen me.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Derek leveled as he put the car in drive, pulling out of whatever parking lot Stiles had ended up in.

“Derek, it’s the only thing that matters!” Stile yelled, cheeks flushing. “I let Void in! I let it use my body to do whatever the hell it wants.”

“This isn’t your fault, Stiles.” Derek said as he turned to look at him, eyes soft in the corners. “If anything, I was the one-”

“Stop.” Stiles pleaded, his bruised and bloodied hand reaching out in the space between them. It hesitantly settled against Derek’s wrist and when the wolf didn’t pull away Stiles’ tightened his grip. “I couldn’t let it hurt you.”

“I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Derek snarled and Stiles flinched from the harshness in his voice. He had seen Derek angry, but this seemed almost a little  _ too  _ dark.

“Derek,” Stiles whispered as he finally looked out the window, “where are we going?”

“We’re getting help.” Derek replied shortly.

But Stiles knew. He had lived in this town his entire life. They weren’t heading to the police station. Or his house. Or Scott’s. Or even to the loft. Derek pulled around a familiar corner and Stiles felt something like a brick drop into his stomach.

“Why are we going to the Argents?” He asked carefully, quietly, his hand still holding onto Derek like it was the only thing in the world tethering them together.

Derek’s lips twisted into a pained grimace. “You didn’t see it, Stiles. Chris was going to kill you.”

Stiles felt frozen, the gears in his brain grinding together painfully as it all fell into place. And suddenly, he knew it was there, sitting just behind them.  _ Smiling. _ Stiles was afraid, his eyes squeezing shut as he shook his head.

No no no no no no  _ no _ .

“Derek, stop, please.” He begged because that’s all he knew how to do anymore. 

_ Beg _ .

“Haven’t you figured it out yet, Stiles?” Derek asked, causing the boy’s eyes to snap open. “The Argents think that they can do whatever they want. They get to decide who the monsters are. They get to take them out however they see fit.” 

Stiles felt like he was going to be sick as Derek finally met his gaze. His grey-green eyes were darkened by a fire that he recognized as the one that filled his veins whenever  _ it _ took over. 

“Judge. Jury. Executioner.” Derek finished with a smile that was all teeth. “But not today.”

“Scott wouldn’t have let-” Stiles began, keeping his eyes forward because he couldn’t look behind them, he just fucking couldn’t.

“Scott wasn’t there.” Derek gave an exasperated sigh as he rolled his eyes. “And I will burn this entire fucking world to the ground before I let another Argent win.”

_ He’s protecting us, Stiles _

“Let him go!” Stiles screamed, an echo of his plea from days ago. He finally looked into the rearview mirror and there it was. All bandages and teeth, head cocked to the side, dirty fingers pressed against the back of Derek’s neck. “You have me, let him go!”

Stiles jerked forward as Derek slammed on the brakes. He reached for the front of Derek’s leather jacket, desperation constricting his chest until it burned. “Derek, you don’t have to do this.”

“Yeah,” Derek responded with a tight grin, “I really think I do.”

He grabbed Stiles’ wrist, handcuffing him to the door. Stiles pulled and tried to get his wrist free, but it was to no avail. He screamed at Derek to come back, fingers falling into the empty air as the wolf climbed out of the car, leaving him alone with Void. Stiles immediately turned towards the back, Void still smiling as its head moved from side to side, like a snake studying its prey.

“Why are you doing this?” Stiles asked as he metal of the cuffs dug painfully into his skin. 

_ This is justice, Stiles. _

“This is murder!” Stiles snarled. “Derek doesn’t want to-” he cut off, fighting the ever growing sob and deep ache from ruining him, “he’s better than this.”

_ But he does, Stiles. He wants to keep us safe.  _

“Not like this.” Stiles argued as he fought and pulled against the restraint. And this felt painfully familiar. “You have me. You have  _ me _ ! Just let him go!”

_ What is Derek Hale if not something to be used?  _

Stiles let his head fall against the cool window, Void’s hot breath tracing across the back of his neck, the tips of its teeth grazing against his skin. 

_ We could be like this, forever. We could take on the entire world. _

“No,” Stiles replied shakily, “Derek is not a monster.”

_ But we are. _

“We are.” Stiles agreed as looked down at his hands. He focused on the hard, crimson lines of blood caked beneath his nails. The cracks in his skin and the purple edge of bruises. 

_ We don’t have to be alone, Stiles. _

“I am alone.” 

_ We _ .

“We.”

And when Stiles caught his reflection he could only see Void. He blinked, long and slow, and when he opened his eyes Void was behind him again, but now he was frowning, an ugly scowl creeping across his face. Stiles saw the slight tilt of its head and something like magic,  _ like hope _ , bloomed in his chest.

“He beat you.” Stiles said quietly.

Void rolled it’s head, teeth grinding into a sneer.

_ Derek can never win, Stiles, because I have you. _

* * *

Derek felt his chest heaving, the stench of gasoline burning his nostrils. Chris was breathing heavily too, leaning against his desk, hand still gripping his gun tightly. He swallowed the lump in his throat, thanking anyone,  _ anything _ , that was listening. 

“You could have killed me.” He stated wryly after a moment.

“I knew that wasn’t you.” Chris replied gruffly.

The sound of one, loud applause startled them as they turned toward the hallway. Derek felt the pain hit him all over again. This was a lesson, it seemed, he was doomed to repeat.

“Bravo,” Void said as it continued to clap, lips pulling into a frightening smile, “I didn’t think you had it in you, Derek.”

Chris raised his gun and Derek had to fight the itch beneath his skin to tackle the man to the ground. Void only laughed.

“We all know how that turned out last time, Argent” Void just said as it cocked its head to the side. He turned his gaze away from Chris, focusing back on Derek. “You should have heard him begging in the car.”

And then its voice became sick, distraught, and Derek could taste the terror as he watched Stiles’ face crumple, “ _ Derek’s not a monster. Just let him go _ .” 

As soon as it came it was gone again. 

“Kind of cute, right?” Void chuckled darkly. 

“But you did let him go.” Derek said as he saw Chris’ fingers carefully dip into his pocket.

“Let go is a relative term.” Void said with a shrug of its shoulders. “I was just getting a little hungry.”

“Did you make me the king?” Derek asked, wanting Void to keep all of it’s focus on him.

“The most important piece on the board.” Void hummed. “We’ve made sure that the king is protected at all cost, but you’re running out of moves, Derek.”

“I could say the same for you.” Derek growled.

He watched Void lift a curious eyebrow, but it was too late as a jolt of electricity shot up through the floor, rendering Void -  _ rendering Stiles _ \- unconscious. Derek took a deep breath.

“Checkmate.”

**Author's Note:**

> heh. okay. at least 1-2 should be coming to complete this series! thank you for reading let me know your thoughts!


End file.
